Moonshine, just enough to cure this head
that goes on losing its mind every night.
Jesus walks on puddled sidewalks and
tragically loses the soles of his shoes in a
rain soaked pothole. Moonshine, wild as
this heart, fill this empty cup full.
Fill it full for Jesus, heading west, on
aching feet. He has nowhere to sleep.
Moonshine, just enough to get in this
brain that feels so scattered. Jesus has
a gypsy soul, wandering night and day,
he wanders, wailing the blues, oh, moonshine.